The Secret Language of Demons
by LadyDivine91
Summary: When Aziraphale learns the secret language of demons, the effects are two-fold. Aziraphale x Crowley.


_**Warning for sexual content and dirty talk.**_

Aziraphale knows the secret language of demons.

It never dawned on Aziraphale that demons would have a secret language.

Angels have one. They communicate in a way that sounds, to mortal ears, like hymns and musical notes - much different from human music, which Aziraphale prefers. The language of the Angels is pretty but repetitive, and after centuries of hearing it, Aziraphale tired of it.

Crowley knows the language of Angels, but he never mentioned its demon counterpart.

On the few occasions Aziraphale heard demons talk among themselves, he never noticed they had a separate unique language. That's partly because it's made up of guttural noises and animalistic grunts, specifically so messages can be carried from one place to another by bottom-feeding animals, insects, and other beasts of the terrestrial world.

Aziraphale hears it one afternoon when he catches Crowley taking a missive from a large, unruly-looking Violet Ground Beetle. Fascinated by linguistics and etymology, he begs Crowley to teach it to him. Crowley doesn't have any real loyalty to Hell anymore, but still, it does take a bit of convincing to get him to budge. Aziraphale speaking demon felt blasphemous.

But Aziraphale doesn't give up easily.

And he plays dirty.

When plying Crowley with his favorite alcohol and sugary treats doesn't work, the angel waits till they're intimate. At a crucial moment during their love making, when slowing down or stopping would be unforgivable, he looks in Crowley's eyes and demands that he teach him how to say "Fuck me!" in demon.

Out of sheer surprise, Crowley does.

Those words shunting through Aziraphale's lips – crude and clumsy as they are – finish Crowley faster than hearing his angel curse normally does.

From that day on, Crowley teaches Aziraphale to speak demon, starting with the curses and moving on from there till Crowley and Aziraphale are holding complete conversations in demon from morning till night. Knowing it means Aziraphale can talk to Crowley when he's in his serpent form, but they only use it as long as there's no one around to hear them. Crowley insists upon it. And he means _no one_ – not a plant, not a creature, not a soul.

Despite their meticulous gatekeeping, Hell ends up finding out. Very little on Earth can stay secret when you live beneath it. A rat living in the foundation of Aziraphale's shop catches the angel tell his demon that he loves him and to please pass the sugar. The rat tells a beetle, who tells a woodlouse, who tells a lizard, who tells an adolescent demon to avoid getting eaten.

It doesn't help.

The lizard gets devoured anyway, fed to a Hellhound.

But the news sparks the demon's curiosity.

They gather a small gang of younger demons ready to rise through the ranks by sharpening their claws on someone worthy of Beelzebub's notice. They climb through the crust to the surface to see for themselves this rogue angel who defied Heaven, breathes Hellfire, and can apparently speak demon.

They don't believe the stories, of course, regardless of who's telling them.

They've never met Aziraphale in person, but they've heard he's pudgy and soft and vain – hardly a match for a single one of them, not to mention all of them at once.

They travel through the streets of Soho to Aziraphale's shop in disguise; their plan simple - break through a window and ambush him. They've been told he spends most of his time reading, loses all sense of time when he is. If they move quickly, it shouldn't be difficult to catch him unaware.

They expect Crowley will be there with him. They hear the two of them have become inseparable. They definitely fear Crowley more than Aziraphale, but bringing Crowley back in chains will probably earn them commendations on top of what they'll get for capturing Aziraphale.

The thought makes them salivate with glee.

Peeking through the windows of Aziraphale's shop, they can't see the angel or the demon. But using their supernatural hearing, they sense where they are.

Not having spent too much time among mortals, they don't quite grasp what the two are doing.

In short, they're doing _each other_.

And they're both speaking demon – urgently and ardently.

There are no words of love or romance in demon.

The closest Crowley could cobble together for Aziraphale to say were things of a primal, sexual nature - _submit, surrender, serve me,_ _declare allegiance to me_, and _obey_ \- which Aziraphale commands with an appropriately Evil growl. Crowley's response to Aziraphale's enthusiastic orders are a chant of _Yes, Master (_Love, Crowley explained, is seen as akin to a prison sentence, ergo _lover_ would translate as _Master_)_. Yes. Whatever you say, Master. I am your slave. Command me._

Demon mouths drop all around.

Hearing the traitor Crowley, the legendary demon who bathed in Holy Water and lived, submit so desperately to Aziraphale, terrifies the Hell out of them.

It's over a century before demons attempt to infiltrate Aziraphale's shop again.


End file.
